


on my tallest tiptoes

by halocline



Series: passed down like folk songs [1]
Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Album: folklore (Taylor Swift), Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, One Shot, Song: mirrorball (Taylor Swift), firby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halocline/pseuds/halocline
Summary: "i'm still on my tallest tiptoes, spinning in my highest heels, love shining just for you"xpart i of firby x folklore: mirrorball
Relationships: Kirby Anders & Fallon Carrington, Kirby Anders/Fallon Carrington
Series: passed down like folk songs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971172
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	on my tallest tiptoes

**Author's Note:**

> "firbylore" has been a doc in my drive since the day folklore was released and i finally finished one of these one shots. enjoy :)

“You look like a trophy wife.”

At the sound of the familiar voice, Kirby spun around to find Fallon standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame casually despite the risk of wrinkling the gorgeous silver dress she was wearing. The Australian was in a far-too-expensive dress that had just been tailored to her size hours ago, with a pair of similarly far-too-expensive heels lent to her by Fallon herself.

Kirby raised her eyebrows in amusement, trying and failing to hide the smile on her face as she turned back to the mirror to study herself. “You think so?” She always felt so awkward wearing nice clothes, and she’d made it known that she’d much rather wear a ratty hand-me-down t-shirt than a sparkling ball gown. Still, when Fallon invited her to a Carrington party, she accepted without batting an eyelash, not considering the implications it had on her fashion choices.

Fallon nodded, humming to herself as she walked up to Kirby. 

“In a good way or a bad way?” the redhead asked, watching as Fallon approached her from behind. Without her stilettos on, Fallon was noticeably shorter, especially seeing as Kirby was already wearing her heels for the night.

The brunette put her hands on Kirby’s waist, pressing her front to her back and standing on her tiptoes to rest her chin on the Australian’s shoulder. Blue met brown as the two locked eyes in the mirror.

“In a fantastic way,” she clarified, her voice hot against Kirby’s skin. She carded her fingers through Kirby’s hair, braiding a few locks together mindlessly. “Red is definitely your color.”

Kirby felt her cheeks heat up, as they often did whenever Fallon complimented her. She took another once-over in the mirror, as if she didn’t really believe the socialite’s kind words.

“Thanks,” she mustered as she turned around, facing the shorter woman. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest. Fallon had a very specific way of looking at her that always made her nervous yet excited at the same time. Kirby silently wondered how Fallon could elicit such a reaction in her -- it was like she was seventeen again, completely infatuated and giddy with love. “You think this is a good dress for tonight? It’s not too informal?”

“Yes, like I said at least a million times before, you’ll be fine,” Fallon rolled her eyes, but a smile ghosted across her lips. “I promise it’ll be low-key and you’ll blend right in.”

“If I know anything about the Carringtons, tonight’ll be far from low-key,” Kirby remarked. “How did you even get me a spot at Blake’s fancy party?”

“I’m Fallon Carrington, I can get you a spot anywhere,” she scoffed, putting on the aloof, self-righteous mask she always wore in public. Kirby arched an eyebrow at her change in demeanor, but she didn’t reply.

After a pause, Fallon spoke again, this time much more like the soft, caring Fallon that Kirby had gotten to know well over the past few months. “Though I am sorry we’re not able to go together. You know I want to bring you as my date, but…” she trailed off, unable to meet the taller woman’s eyes. 

“But there’s Blake,” Kirby finished for her. She could feel the vulnerability in Fallon’s voice, and it broke her heart to hear how sincere Fallon was being and how she genuinely seemed worried about her being angry. “I get it, Fal. I swear, there’s absolutely no pressure from me, and I want you to know that. Besides, I don’t care if anyone in that stuffy party knows we’re together. As long as you and I know, that’s more than enough for me.”

At that, Fallon immediately perked up, beaming at Kirby with a wide smile and pulling her down into a brief kiss. When she pulled away, she rested her head on Kirby’s shoulder, still stretching on her tiptoes to reach the taller woman’s height.

“Thank you for understanding,” she whispered.

* * *

Fallon wasn’t often wrong, but as Kirby expected, she was completely off-base about the party. There was absolutely nothing low-key about it. It was the annual Carrington Atlantic anniversary ball, and the combination of the live band, lavish decor, and large crowd was certainly intimidating to Kirby, who hadn’t been to a true Carrington party save for a few birthdays here and there.

From her spot on the sidelines, chatting with a couple of acquaintances, Kirby could see Fallon gliding across the room, talking up Carrington Atlantic investors and convincing them to make even larger contributions to the company. There was something so natural about the way Fallon conducted herself in a room full of fancy businesspeople, like she knew exactly what made them tick. Of course, she was bred and raised to be that way. Kirby certainly knew how Blake was a shitty parent, but even she could acknowledge how well he trained Fallon.

Although Fallon was able to put on the perfect Carrington front for the crowds, the redhead knew that later, when the night was over and they were alone together in her apartment, she would get the real, unfiltered Fallon, who was goofy and considerate and fun. And somehow, the thought of the brunette in sweats, with her hair up in a scrunchie, complaining about all of the sycophants she had to deal with earlier, was even more appealing than the Fallon in front of her, gallivanting around the room to schmooze different groups of businessmen in her sparkling silver dress.

“How’re you holding up?” Sam asked, appearing seemingly from nowhere and holding up a champagne flute, which Kirby gladly accepted. “I know the first time I went to one of these, I almost fell asleep standing here in the main hall.”

“It’s been alright,” the redhead slowly sipped on her drink, much too captivated by Fallon to pay Sam any attention.

“You’re so whipped,” he chuckled, following Kirby’s gaze and grinning when he realized she was staring longingly at the brunette. “She’s a real natural at this, stuff, isn’t she?”

“She’s amazing at it,” Kirby agreed, turning to face her friend. “She just knows when to turn it on, you know? Her hosting skills and her business instincts are so exact and precise, and even when we’re alone, while she doesn’t act like this, she still says all the right things somehow. I don’t know how she does it.”

“How who does it?” a new voice asked. Kirby nearly jumped out of her skin, turning around to see Fallon approaching. “What’re we talking about over here?”

“Nothing,” Kirby quickly lied as Fallon found her spot next to her. She resisted her desire to grab the socialite’s hand, knowing that this wasn’t the time nor the place.

“You,” Sam deadpanned.

When the Australian shot him a warning glare, he just flashed her a shit-eating grin. She was going to kill him. She turned to Fallon, cheeks burning with embarrassment, but the brunette didn’t seem to flinch at his response.

“Interesting,” Fallon mused, obviously knowing the truth but choosing to ignore it.

“So how’s it going out there?” Kirby took a stab at conversation, hoping to distract Fallon from her embarrassment and to keep her attention for just a little bit longer before she was whisked away by Blake or someone else.

“Same old, same old,” Fallon waved it off, as if her billion-dollar empire wasn’t anything worth thinking about. “I’m just glad you’re here. I hope it hasn’t been too boring.”

“Well, it’s nothing to write home about, but at least it gives me a chance to see you in this dress again.”

“And see me out of it?” she asked, feigning shyness as she peered up at Kirby through half-lidded eyes. The Australian flushed red, feeling her cheeks burning.

“Okay, ew,” Sam interrupted, holding up a hand to stop the two women from going too far. “I think this might be my cue to go, but just as a friendly reminder, you’re at a Blake-sponsored event. Both of you, please try not to get disowned -- you’re collectively my last tie to the Carringtons, and as much as you guys don’t care about the money, I do.”

Fallon laughed, and Kirby marveled at the sight. It was so rare that she got to hear Fallon’s real laugh. Usually, she covered it up with pursed lips and coughs, and it was even rarer that she laughed like this in public. It was hard for Kirby to merge this freer, more open Fallon with the Fallon who she knew before they started spending so much time together, the one who was emotionally unavailable, flippant, and talked only in quips, but Kirby knew that this change in attitude was for the best.

“You can stay, Sam,” the brunette offered. “I’m going to go back to the crowd, anyway. I’ll talk to you soon.” Then, she turned her attention away from Sam, reaching out for Kirby’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze. “And I’ll let you know as soon as we can go.”

With that, the socialite turned around, and Kirby watched in awe as she put her game face back on, straightened out her dress, and prepared herself to go back into the crowd.

* * *

“Finally, we’re home,” Fallon marvelled, shoving the door open and jumping onto the couch.

“If by home you mean ‘Kirby’s apartment that she kindly lets me crash in,’ then yes, we’re home.”

Fallon sat up on the couch, staring at Kirby, completely unamused. “Very funny.”

“I thought so, too,” the taller woman agreed, sliding off her jacket and hanging it up on the rack. She made her way to the kitchen, grabbing a can of seltzer and popping the tab open. “You want anything?”

In response, the brunette shook her head, simply patting the cushion next to her on the couch. After grabbing her phone and putting on a soft playlist, Kirby obliged, sitting down and leaning against the sofa arm. She set her drink on the nearby corner table, and like clockwork, the two women assumed their usual position: Fallon lying against Kirby, back to front, with the redhead’s arms wrapped around her and her long legs stretched out on either side of her body. They sat in comfortable silence, scrolling through their phones mindlessly. As Kirby refreshed her Instagram timeline with one hand, tracing patterns on Fallon’s sweatshirt with the other, she couldn’t keep the smile off her face -- she really could stay like this forever.

Both of them had changed earlier, taking the opportunity to do so when the party ended and all the guests left. As always, Kirby found a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt in her old room in Carrington Manor, while Fallon insisted on wearing a matching sweatsuit, despite Kirby’s complaints.

_“We’re literally going back to my place,” she had said, watching Fallon dig through her giant closet for a matching set of clothes. She’d already gone through her dresser, and Kirby didn’t love the idea of sitting on Fallon’s closet floor while she sifted through clothes for another half an hour. “No one’s judging your outfit there.”_

_That had only gotten her a glare from Fallon, who continued as if she hadn’t just been interrupted. At the time, Kirby rolled her eyes, deciding to make the most out of the situation by taking a nap. She leaned her head back against the wall, letting her eyelids close. Of course, just as she was on the brink of sleep, Fallon perked up._

_“Found it!” she smiled in victory, ignoring the groan Kirby let out. “Let’s go, Kirb.”_

“Do you wanna put on a movie?” Fallon asked, snapping the Australian out of her thoughts.

Kirby shook her head, putting her phone on the table and reaching for her drink. “No, no. Why don’t you tell me about your night? How was the party from the Carrington side?”

“Ugh,” she couldn’t see it, but she knew that Fallon was doing her signature eye roll. “Boring as always. Just a bunch of sleazy suck-ups and gross finance bros. It’s always the same thing with those guys -- flirt a little, smile and laugh a lot, and suddenly you’ve got a new investor. Been trained for doing this my whole life.”

“Well, you looked damn good doing it,” Kirby commented, taking a sip of her seltzer.

“Glad you enjoyed the view,” Fallon teased, “but what was it like for you? How’s it like to eat hors d'oeuvres and drink my expensive champagne for a night?”

Kirby stifled a laugh. “Can’t complain,” she shrugged. “Remind me to ask Mrs. Gunnerson for her mini taco recipe sometime.”

The socialite shifted, turning around so that she was facing the taller woman. A playful smile danced on her lips. “Will do,” she placed a brief kiss on Kirby’s lips. Just as she pulled away, the song changed, and she suddenly perked up. “Holy shit, I love this song!”

“I know. You literally added this song to the playlist.”

“Okay, well my refined taste is something I am simply obligated to share with all of you plebeians.”

“You have to share your pedantic vocabulary, too?”

Fallon narrowed her eyes at Kirby, who was grinning widely at her, but immediately dropped the act when the chorus of the song began. She got up off the couch, turning back around and holding a hand out for her girlfriend. “Get up and dance with me!”

Kirby raised her eyebrows, nonetheless agreeing and standing up. They found a natural rhythm, swaying along to the beat with Kirby’s hands on Fallon’s waist and Fallon’s arms draped around the redhead’s neck. Everything felt so natural, and they moved in sync as if they’d been training for this their whole lives. Even though Kirby knew it was insane to think about, as they’d only been “dating” for a few months, she could already imagine dancing with Fallon at their wedding, celebrating their love with their friends, family, and loved ones.

When the song drew to a close, Fallon leaned up, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her lips against Kirby’s. As she pulled away, though, she lost her balance slightly, and Kirby quickly reached out to keep her from falling.

“All the champagne finally hitting you?”

“As if,” Fallon grumbled bitterly, pretending to dust herself off. “It’s not my fault you’re a giant.”

“Okay, shorty.”

“You know what, I’ll have you know that 5’7 is actually _above_ average for American women, so if we’re being exact, then you’re the weir-”

Kirby put up a hand to cut the other woman off, using the other hand to cover her giggles. “Okay, okay,” she conceded. “Here, wait, I might just have a compromise.”

She strolled over to her closet, digging through her shoe collection until she found the pair she wanted. Holding them up to Fallon, she let the other woman give them a once-over.

“Platform Doc Martens,” she observed, always the fashion expert. “For what?”

“Wear ‘em,” Kirby instructed, tossing them onto the ground. “They’re no stilettos, but they’re the closest things to high heels I’ve got here.”

The brunette canted her head to the side, and the redhead could see the cogs turning in her head as she weighed the pros and cons. Ultimately, she decided that the extra inches were worth it and put them on. It wasn’t a hard choice -- Fallon would wear circus stilts if Kirby told her to. When they were on securely, she looked to the still-taller woman for guidance. Kirby stepped towards the socialite, putting her hands back on Fallon’s waist.

“Better?”

Fallon nodded, a silly smile on her face as she pulled the Australian in for another kiss, this time, both feet planted firmly on the ground. “Much better,” she decided. “But…”

Without skipping a beat, she planted a kiss on Kirby’s forehead, standing on her tiptoes once again to match her height. Kirby couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Fallon’s stubbornness, causing the shorter woman to laugh. Like magnets, they were pressed up against one another again, with Fallon’s arms back around Kirby’s neck and both of them still swaying together to the beat of the music, letting themselves get engulfed in the world they’d created together, one that was theirs and theirs alone.


End file.
